


The Water is Horny Today

by MsThunderFrost



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Charon Fucks the River Styx (Hades Video Game), Charon-centric (Hades Video Game), Crack Treated Seriously, Exasperated Thanatos (Hades Video Game), F/M, Finger Sucking, Fisting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29215326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: Charon fucks the River Styx. Thanatos cannot unsee what he has seen. Hermes thinks his boyfriend is a kinky bastard.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game), Charon/Styx (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	The Water is Horny Today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishxallxgood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/gifts).



> For Ish, who came up with this idea while we were chatting yesterday. It was too good, I couldn't _not_ write it. I hope you enjoy!

The Boatman casts his oar into the murky waters of the River Styx, swatting at one of the malformed hands that reaches up from the crimson depths to claw at the side of his boat. This is his third time traversing the River that day (night) with a boat that is near full to bursting, and he knows that there are _at least_ two more trips’ worth of souls awaiting passage in the Temple of Styx.

Hermes had been surprised to discover such a backlog, loitering in one of the Temple’s rat-infested tunnels. Ordinarily, when he’d bring souls to Charon, the Boatman would take his time, meticulously accounting for each passenger’s fare, before taking them downriver to the House. The whole process would take… a half hour? An hour at most, if there was a particularly large influx of souls or a sorry sod didn’t have the coin to pay for their trip. In those cases, Hermes usually had a couple obol to spare (if he hadn’t already promised it to the rebellious Prince of the Underworld), or would take the extra thirty seconds to whisk the soul down into the depths himself.

It was _incredibly_ unusual for there to be a backlog because Charon was running late. Not that Charon was running late, because he _wasn’t_. The Styx was just… feeling particularly _volatile_ today, and the new arrivals kept _shifting_ in their seats, muttering underneath their breath and staring at their surroundings in abject horror. A few wondered what horrors might await them in Tartarus, and whether they had done anything despicable enough to warrant personalized attention from the Erinyes. Others sobbed upon seeing the Asphodel Meadows flooded with boiling magma from the volatile River Phlegethon, realizing they’d be condemned to suffer an eternity of ungodly heat.

He smacks another of the hands, the sharp, jerking movement of the oar causing the boat to rock. The passengers, who’ve yet to fully wrap their heads around the fact that they are dead, and literally cannot become _more_ dead, cry out in distress as one of the lot almost tumbles overboard. Charon’s arm snaps out, his long, thin fingers catching the back of the man’s chiton just as his long, stringy hair grazes the surface of the water. He’s almost managed to pull him back aboard the vessel when _another_ hand breaks through the surface of the water and tangles itself into the man’s hair, gaining enough leverage to drag both the man, and Charon, overboard.

Charon’s robes are cumbersome on land, but wet? He never stood a chance, the second the thick, black fabric started sopping up water. He doesn’t try to fight it. The River Styx is peaceful, in its own… _odd_ sort of way. The River is sentient—a powerful goddess, who most commonly manifested in the form of hands, eager to drag all those who would enter Hades realm deep into her depths…

She had rendered the great Achilles invulnerable, in all but the heel his mother had held when she dipped him into the shadowy waters.

Mortals that drank of her took ill and died, as though they’d consumed a terrible poison.

Charon knows that she will not hurt him. If the hand trailing up along the inside of his thigh is any indication, she’d likely noticed how stressed he was with the recent influx of souls resulting from Lord Ares’ most recent war, and had wanted to help in some small way. A cloud of purple smoke pours from his mouth as a pair of hands guide his robes up over his bony hips, revealing miles of pale, lavender-gray skin and a loincloth fashioned after Lord Hermes’ lambert plume. He barely has time to contemplate how it is possible for smoke to form underwater when another hand tangles in his hair, his hat floating off downriver as a lovely ache blossoms in his scalp.

There’s a hand on his hip, a slick thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles on the sharp curve of his pelvis. Another is between his legs, teasing at his sensitive little furl, while another still uses the water around them as makeshift lube to begin to stroke his cock. Dozens of hands undulate underneath him—he has no way of knowing just how far he’s sunk, though he can still make out the soft, bluish-green of Ixion’s light rippling along the River’s surface. There’s a gentle, unassuming pressure pushing in on him from all sides, as more hands work their way across his skin. His entire body is _thrumming_ with electricity, more alive than it’s ever been—

Fingers work their way into his mouth. He expects to taste… _something_ , he’s unsure what. Puffs of purple smoke force their way out around the gooey, semi-formed digits, bubbles rising up toward the surface as the two—no, three—fingers push down upon his tongue. Had he not been floating in water, he’s certain he’d be drooling, his thin lips stretched wide, _wider_. He feels like he can take more. He _wants_ to take more.

The fingers tease over his taint, eliciting a full-body shiver with a soft, barely there caress, and then—

There’s a delightful ache between his legs, brought forth by the quick, skillful hand that’s curled around his cock, and the subtle ebb and flow of the water that seems to encourage one of those long, semi-solid fingers to take that final step and breach his fluttering hole. The goddess’ hands do not keep him waiting. She knows that he’s a busy man (and while the river will lead his boat to it’s final destination, whether or not he is on-board to navigate, he can’t help but feel like it’s… _cheating_ , to take the poor souls’ last coins and then leave them to make their final journey alone—although it would provide a much more lucrative business model…).

The _point_ is that time is money. And Charon, despite being immortal, always seems to have a dearth of both.

The waters of the Styx are more slick than oil—and a little bit trickles inside of him every time that that finger sinks in… and out… It’s more filling than even the largest of phalli, his stomach twisting in pleasure as yet another finger slides into his hot, tight channel. He suckles on the fingers inside of his mouth, biting down on the soft skin as he rocks his hips down against the intruding digits. The water around him seems _terribly_ warm, the hands underneath him swaying as a particularly strong wave sends the lot of them floating downstream. The hands do not stop their ministrations, and a second later, there’s three fingers inside of him…

One of the hands situated lower on his back slides down to cup a pert ass cheek, the fingers pressing deep into his sensitive skin to spread the cheeks apart for greater ease of access. He wishes, desperately, that he had something to hold onto—that he wasn’t at the mercy of the Styx’s hands, and could fuck himself down onto her fingers as he truly desired.

The fourth finger doesn’t make a whole lot of difference. Charon so rarely bottoms, anything over three fingers is a struggle to accommodate—but the Styx is ever patient (except when it most definitely is not), and takes her time, one of her thumbs gliding over the fat, flared head of Charon’s cock, whilst another pinky twists and pushes inside of him, ever so slowly.

Charon’s vision goes white, his glowing lavender eye blazing bright for just a second. Had he just cum?

It doesn’t seem to matter, one way or another, because that hand is still fucking up into him—now four fingers deep, he cannot help but wonder if she intends to go for an entire fist. His entire body is _twitching_ , his poor, aching cock jumping in her hand. She continues to work it in short, choppy strokes, a few jets of white oozing from his slit to mix with the surrounding water. He feels horribly unsteady, despite knowing that the Styx will not drop him. He grapples desperately for something to hold onto as his hips continue to twitch, his body being stimulated by dozens upon dozens of probing fingers touching him _everywhere_.

His head breaks the surface of the water, his body desperately sucking in air that he didn’t actually need. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, in no small part due to the fact that he’s sitting on an entire _fist_ right now. Had they… made it all the way back to the House already? No, there was no way. He tries to think of how much time had passed, as his entire body cants forward into the hand that’s tugging, incessantly, on his cock.

He barely even notices Thanatos glaring at him from his balcony in the West Wing, “C-Charon?! Oh, come _on_! Blood and darkness, I come here to relax, not to be traumatized for the rest of my life. Who fucks a godsdamned _river_?”

Who indeed, he wonders, as one of those fingers brushes over his prostate, and he allows himself to be pulled back under into the warm, undulating waters.

* * *

“What took ya so long, Boss? Here I was, startin’ to get worried you weren’t coming back.” Hermes is waiting for him in the Temple, a few shiny gold obol on hand for one of the unfortunate souls who didn’t have money to pay their fare.

“Haaahhhhh,” the Boatman looks away, adjusting his still damp robes. Despite knowing that Hermes was (mostly) kidding, he still felt bad for making him worry.

Hermes just flashes a toothy smile, one eyebrow raised. “ _Really_? Kinky.”


End file.
